The Curse of the Red Shirt
by Arya Daeriel
Summary: They all told him stories about "The Curse of the Red Shirt." They all teased him about how much the stories scared him. They just never expected Chekov to end up in a red shirt himself.


**Disclaimer: Don't own, never have, never will.**

**A/N: This is not my fault. I made a gifset and somebody commented about having a headcanon that people told stories about the red shirts. And then Destined Darkness gave me another idea that ended up being this.**

"The Curse of the Red Shirt." That was the name of the story they would all tell new crew members, especially the particularly young ones. Some of them would be terrified by it. Others would scoff at it and say it was just some bad luck because the same number of blue and yellow shirted people had probably also died. When they told the story to Chekov, the kid had gotten terrified and the older crew members never missed a chance to tease him about it. Then they stopped. They stopped telling the story entirely. They stopped joking about the red shirts. They stopped making comments about red shirts who died. They stopped any specific correlation between red shirts and death completely.

* * *

Scotty was on leave when they were called up for a simple ambassadorial mission to sign a peace treaty with a planet that's name Kirk couldn't pronounce. The captain didn't even consider asking Scotty to come back. The man rarely got time off and he deserved the break. Instead he went to Chekov, because he had acted in Scotty's place before, to take up a red shirt again. He should have known when the kid got a freaked out look on his face that this would be a bad idea.

But everything was going smoothly. The Enterprise was in tip-top condition and they warped to the planet with general ease. Everything about it was easy. Maybe Kirk shouldn't have been so at ease about the mission to think that it would be a good idea for Chekov to join them in visiting the planet since the young ensign hadn't had much experience with other planets yet. A group consisting of the captain, Spock, Uhura, and Chekov comprised the party that beamed down to the surface of the planet. There was nothing amiss.

There didn't appear to be anything wrong when they entered the building where the signing would take place. There didn't appear to be anything wrong when they entered a large circular chamber with a table in the center. It wasn't until Uhura spotted movement in the balcony near the ceiling of the building that they realized something was wrong, and it wasn't until they had been waiting in an empty chamber for nearly ten minutes without anybody from the planet appearing that they realized that it was a trap.

The moment this realization came to mind, four phasers were pulled out and not ten seconds later foreign fire drove smoking holes into the table, the people who had previously wanted to be their allies appearing before them. Kirk dove behind a pillar, seeing his crew making similar maneuvers to get out of range of their fire. There were too many of them for just the four of them to take on. He pulled out his comm to contact the Enterprise.

"You gotta beam us out of here, fast!" he yelled into the receiver.

"On it, captain," came the voice from the other end.

Kirk snapped the comm shut and looked out from behind his pillar. The natives were advancing upon them. On a whim, he dashed out from behind his hiding place. Phaser fire chased him as he dashed across the floor. He returned it, managing to take down two or the opposing force before sliding into the place where Spock and Uhura were crouched. He looked to his right to see Chekov crouched behind a stone slab. Catching the ensigns attention, he motioned for him to join them so as to make the job of beaming them up easier.

Chekov nodded and paused, waiting for the right moment before sprinting out of his hiding place. It took a few seconds, but he was noticed and shots began to pepper his steps. He had almost reached them. He had almost reached cover again when the shots that were previously marking his steps hit their target. Kirk watched in horror as the youngest member of his crew fell, not with a cry but with a small squeak of surprise. He heard Uhura give a small gasp behind him. Not caring that he had no protection whatsoever, Kirk dashed out from behind his hiding place, grabbed Chekov, and pulled him back to the others. By some miracle, he wasn't fired upon. By some other miracle, Chekov was still alive.

"Captain, he will not live long," Spock said after a cursory look at the young navigator.

"Hell he won't," Kirk said, snapping open his comm once again. "Why haven't you beamed us up yet?"

"Sorry Captain, there's a technical problem," came the reply.

"Well then fix the problem! One of my crew is dying down here and will die if we don't get back up there."

There was silence on the other end and Kirk assumed that person on the other end was having an 'oh shit' moment. "Just fix it," he said before snapping his comm shut and turning his attention to Chekov.

The kid was coughing, blood staining his lips.

"Hey, Chekov, you're gonna be fine," Kirk said in an attempt to comfort the ensign. Spock looked at him with a raised eyebrow but thankfully made no comment.

"You don't need to lie, Keptin," Chekov said. "I knew this was going to happen when I put on the red shirt.

"The red shirt?" Kirk asked, confused.

Chekov laughed, the laugh quickly turning into a cough as more blood spilled from his lips. "The red shirt. Most people who wear a red shirt die. It's what the others are always saying. Wear a red shirt and you're going to die."

Oh. It was then that he remembered the so called "Curse of the Red Shirt." Even he'd joked about it. And here was Chekov, wearing a red shirt and dying.

White spirals were starting to surround them now and Kirk almost sighed in relief because they would be aboard the Enterprise in a few seconds and Chekov could get some medical attention. Almost.

"I'm sorry, Keptin," Chekov said, right before they were beamed up.

Seconds later Jim Kirk found himself kneeling on the transport pad, but this time the young Russian that lay before him was dead.

* * *

They never joked about the red shirts after that. They never commented at all. But they all remembered. They all remembered the Russian kid they teased about his fear of wearing a red shirt. They all remembered how they'd laughed when they saw the horror on his face when the captain had told him to put a red shirt. And they all remembered when Chekov appeared lifelessly on the transporter pad wearing a red shirt.


End file.
